Sui Mi wanted a divorce.
Even though she had just finished the most intimate act with Xi Jianbai.
She lay on the silk sheets, her breathing still a little rapid, her body lingering in a lazy afterglow, too weary to lift even a fingertip.
There was a rustling sound beside the bed.
Sui Mi’s lashes trembled, and she turned to look—Xi Jianbai had casually picked up the white shirt draped over the edge of the bed and pulled it over his shoulders.
Moonlight streamed through the sheer curtains, sketching his deep-set features in half light and half shadow.
He rarely looked this disheveled, a stark contrast to his neat, composed self during the day.
His hair fell softly over his forehead, his shirt hung loose, barely concealing the lean, well-defined lines of his chest and abdomen.
But perhaps the moonlight was too faint, his gaze too dark.
After leaving the bed heated by body warmth and intimacy, he merely lifted his long lashes slightly, still exuding that aloof, indifferent air, untouched by even a trace of warmth.
Xi Jianbai met Sui Mi’s gaze, his eyes calm and shallow. “Rest a little longer?”
A man so proper and serious he could almost be called rigid, he had been married for three years, steadily maintaining the routine of once per night on weekend evenings.
Even his post-act inquiry about washing up was so predictable that Sui Mi could recite it with her eyes closed.
Sui Mi shook her head listlessly, meaning no rest was needed.
Xi Jianbai then walked around to her side of the bed, bent down, and scooped her up in his arms.
His arms were solid and warm, lifting her at an unhurried pace, providing steady support.
Still, a slight sense of weightlessness was unavoidable.
Sui Mi instinctively reached out, her arms circling Xi Jianbai’s neck.
Xi Jianbai’s movements paused for an instant.
Sui Mi quickly withdrew her hands, tucking them obediently against her chest, her flushed lips moving as she said softly,
“Sorry.”
Aside from their marital life at night, Xi Jianbai didn’t seem to like overly intimate touch.
Every time Sui Mi accidentally touched him, the man would stiffen almost imperceptibly for a moment.
It was very brief, and he would quickly return to normal.
He hid it well.
It was only after they registered their marriage and moved in together, when Xi Jianbai wore loose loungewear at home—unlike his formal attire, which concealed everything—that Sui Mi discovered it by accident.
When a touch lingered, Sui Mi could even see the veins standing taut on the side of his neck from restraint.
Even in bed, Xi Jianbai used only the most traditional positions.
His palm braced beside Sui Mi’s ear, avoiding full skin-to-skin contact.
Which was normal, really.
After all, Xi Jianbai had a naturally cold appearance, always buttoned his shirts meticulously to the very top, and his light-colored irises only deepened that indifferent, desireless air.
From any angle, he looked like the ascetic, frigid type.
Of course, Xi Jianbai would always say, “No need to apologize.”
His lowered gaze would land on Sui Mi’s flushed, rosy cheeks, linger for a second, then quickly avert.
Sui Mi never noticed.
The truth was, she was a little wary of Xi Jianbai.
Not because of his temperament or his way of handling things.
Although he often seemed excessively sharp and stern at work, he never brought that manner home.
In front of Sui Mi, he was cold and quiet yet considerate and respectful, treating her with courteous deference—a perfectly exemplary husband.
That trace of wariness came more from her being a young lady long accustomed to a lazy, leisurely life, naturally holding a certain admiration—and a desire to keep her distance—from a brilliant, endlessly driven overachiever.
Plus, there was some other reason she couldn’t quite put into words…
Sui Mi had been lost in thought for a while when Xi Jianbai lowered her into the bathtub, which he had filled with hot water in advance.
The lighting was soft, the temperature just right, and a faint scent of essential oils lingered in the air.
Water rippled with a gentle splash.
Sui Mi leaned against the edge of the tub, resting her chin in her hands as she watched Xi Jianbai’s figure disappear through the bathroom door—
Clearly heading off to wash up in the second bedroom’s bathroom again.
Not the slightest interest in bathing together with her.
Her long, thick lashes, beaded with fine droplets of moisture, blinked slowly.
She suddenly let out a sigh.
The thought that had been circling restlessly in her mind gradually came into focus as she watched Xi Jianbai’s overly upright, straitlaced back.
Sui Mi didn’t soak for long. By the time her cheeks—and even the tips of her ears—had taken on a damp flush, she lazily stepped out of the tub.
Using a wide, soft bath towel to absorb every drop of water from her fair skin, she opened the cabinet and took out a body lotion in a pale pink bottle.
Sui Mi carefully smoothed the lotion over every inch of her skin, and only after confirming that she was perfumed from head to toe in a warm, sweet fragrance did she contentedly slip on her nightgown and shuffle out in her slippers.
Xi Jianbai washed up quickly. By now he had already changed the bedsheets and was sitting on one side of the large bed, eyes lowered, looking at his phone.
Sui Mi paid him no mind. She yawned sleepily and flopped onto the bed with a plop.
Oh, right—Xi Jianbai didn’t seem to like the scent of her body lotion either.
Sui Mi had noticed that every time she finished applying it, Xi Jianbai would give the faintest sniff, then turn his head away, lowering his long lashes as his Adam’s apple bobbed slowly, as if he were deliberately slowing his breathing.
But he never said anything, so Sui Mi pretended not to notice.
A tasteless, straitlaced man.
Sui Mi grumbled to herself, cheeks puffed out.
This was a scent she had picked out with great care—not heavy, not cloying, with just the right touch of delicate sweetness.
And the fragrance lasted long, too. After a night’s sleep, the faint scent would meld into her skin and hair, an almost imperceptible tenderness.
If he didn’t even like that, he truly had no taste!
She’d been getting up early every day this week to finish the last few watercolor paintings for her picture book, and Sui Mi was actually exhausted.
She had always slept soundly and should have been out the moment her head hit the pillow, but today, the moment she closed her eyes, that thought kept swirling over and over in her mind.
Yesterday afternoon, Sui Mi had found time to meet up with a friend for afternoon tea.
It was also then that she heard her friend chattering away about the gossip that a couple in their circle, famous for their loving marriage, had suddenly announced their divorce.
Pressing her fingertip against her silver fork, she speared the white chocolate decoration on a small cake and abruptly said, “I want a divorce too.”
Her friend had just been talking herself dry and took a sip of black tea.
At those words, the tea went down the wrong pipe. She covered her mouth and coughed violently for a good while before finally recovering.
With tears still glistening in her eyes, she put on a ferocious expression.
“What do you mean? What did Xi Jianbai do to wrong you?”
Sui Mi couldn’t help but laugh. “Why do you assume it’s his fault?”
Her friend said matter-of-factly, “You’re so mild-tempered—you can’t even win an argument. How could it possibly be your fault?”
…Well, it was, actually.
Sui Mi nodded honestly. “It’s my problem.”
“Xi Jianbai is wonderful. It’s just… we’re not quite suited to each other.”
As for exactly what didn’t suit, Sui Mi didn’t elaborate.
Because she was a little too embarrassed to say it.
How could she put it?
Was she supposed to say that she felt their married life wasn’t harmonious—that Xi Jianbai’s endowments met the standard, but his frequency and style did not?
Sui Mi was thin-skinned—she couldn’t even bring herself to say it to her closest friends, let alone to Xi Jianbai.
Every time she worked up the courage, the moment she met those cool, faintly aloof, utterly serious light-colored eyes of his, her scalp would prickle, and with a gulp, she’d swallow the words right back down.
But this couldn’t go on forever.
After all, an unsatisfying married life would sooner or later destabilize the marriage itself.
Sui Mi lay on her side, pressing her soft cheek against the smooth, cool silk pillowcase, agonizing over it back and forth, her breathing no longer as calm and even as usual.
Then came the faint rustle of fabric behind her.
Xi Jianbai moved a little closer, his voice low and unhurried. “Can’t sleep?”
“……”
Ordinarily, Sui Mi had a mild, easygoing temperament, often dithering forever over what to have for lunch or dinner.
But when it came to big decisions, once she’d made up her mind, she was remarkably decisive.
She rolled over and, in the dim light, looked at Xi Jianbai beside her.
“Xi Jianbai.”
Sui Mi’s voice was soft and warm; when she called someone’s name quietly, the ending would unconsciously draw out a little, as if she were being coquettish.
Xi Jianbai’s gaze shifted slightly. “Hmm?”
Sui Mi blinked, her tone as natural as if she were saying what she wanted for breakfast tomorrow morning.
“What do you think about us getting a divorce?”
A cold-faced man of dubious morals × a soft, sweetly well-behaved Custard Bun
The story of a pair of silly newlyweds—one pretending to be proper, one pretending to be sweet—until neither of them pretends anymore.
This should be an extremely sweet, sweet, sweet little treat—a daily dose of sticky, clingy, ambiguous push-and-pull.
Hope you like it, darling ˙˙